For the Abbot was one who but rarely had missed
The least chance that he had of his toe getting kissed.
Not exactly saluting his bunions, I mean,
But of causing his sway to be visibly seen.
By all other folks humbling he thought he should rise,
So had made it a point all the world to despise;
Ev'ry small fault exposing which hidden might pass,
Was tracked out like a snake by the trail in the grass.
"Sir, I'm sorry," he said, in a sarcastic tone,